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A lazy frost, a numbness of the mind.
John Dryden
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John Dryden
Age: 68 †
Born: 1631
Born: August 7
Died: 1700
Died: May 12
Hymnwriter
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Translator
Aldwincle
Northamptonshire
Numbness
Frost
Melancholy
Lazy
Mind
More quotes by John Dryden
Love and Time with reverence use, Treat them like a parting friend: Nor the golden gifts refuse Which in youth sincere they send: For each year their price is more, And they less simple than before.
John Dryden
When he spoke, what tender words he used! So softly, that like flakes of feathered snow, They melted as they fell.
John Dryden
Forgiveness to the injured does belong but they ne'er pardon who have done wrong.
John Dryden
Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure,- Sweet is pleasure after pain.
John Dryden
For thee, sweet month the groves green liveries wear. If not the first, the fairest of the year For thee the Graces lead the dancing hours, And Nature's ready pencil paints the flowers. When thy short reign is past, the feverish sun The sultry tropic fears, and moves more slowly on.
John Dryden
They live too long who happiness outlive.
John Dryden
Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense, But good men starve for want of impudence.
John Dryden
If passion rules, how weak does reason prove!
John Dryden
She feared no danger, for she knew no sin.
John Dryden
For all the happiness mankind can gain Is not in pleasure, but in rest from pain.
John Dryden
I am as free as nature first made man, Ere the base laws of servitude began, When wild in woods the noble savage ran.
John Dryden
My love's a noble madness.
John Dryden
Many things impossible to thought have been by need to full perfection brought.
John Dryden
When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit Trust on, and think tomorrow will repay. Tomorrow's falser than the former day.
John Dryden
All habits gather by unseen degrees.
John Dryden
The propriety of thoughts and words, which are the hidden beauties of a play, are but confusedly judged in the vehemence of action.
John Dryden
Imagination in a poet is a faculty so wild and lawless that, like a high ranging spaniel, it must have clogs tied to it, lest it outrun the judgment. The great easiness of blank verse renders the poet too luxuriant. He is tempted to say many things which might better be omitted, or, at least shut up in fewer words.
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Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Soon he sooth'd his soul to pleasures. War, he sung, is toil and trouble Honour but an empty bubble Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying. If all the world be worth the winning, Think, oh think it worth enjoying: Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee.
John Dryden
Seas are the fields of combat for the winds but when they sweep along some flowery coast, their wings move mildly, and their rage is lost.
John Dryden
A man is to be cheated into passion, but to be reasoned into truth.
John Dryden